


My Girlfriend's a Man

by SocialDegenerate



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Explicit Language, M/M, No underage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDegenerate/pseuds/SocialDegenerate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they were younger, Dave and John were total bros; but as life went on, they stopped talking. However, they clearly live in a bad romance film- how else would they end up together again, living as roommates at a random university in a random state?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 07:40 --

EB: dave, i gotta ask you something.  
EB: dave?  
EB: c’mon man.  
EB: go idle if you’re not gonna check your messages.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 08:04 --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:24 --

TG: sorry man   
TG: stayed with a friend last night   
TG: forgot to turn my computer off   
TG: sup   
EB: ...   
EB: i forget.   
TG: oh   
EB: wait, you have friends?   
TG: sick burn bro   
TG: better chisel some ice off your heart for my injury   
TG: but damn straight i got friends   
TG: no one can resist a strider   
EB: if you say so.   
EB: listen man, i gotta get to work.   
EB: if i remember what i wanted to tell you, i’ll message you.   
TG: yeah w/e   
TG: later

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:29 --

 

**Dave: Wonder what happened to you and John.**

Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and now that you’re sixteen, you find that your conversations with your BEST BRO are becoming INCREASINGLY SHORT AND INFREQUENT.

Scrolling back through the chat logs, you wonder how it is only now occurring to you that you barely talking to John anymore, let alone Rose and Jade. The weird thing is, though, that you’re not particularly bothered by it. The other three had been great to talk to when, just quietly, none of you had many RL friends, but these days everyone seems to be building lives outside of the internet. Including you.

Even Egderp, king of the dorks, seems to have a decent social life. He doesn’t go to anywhere near as many parties as you, but hell, that’s the burden of the popular kid. So, between the pair of you going to school, hanging out with real people who are really there and working casual jobs, there isn’t a lot of time for you and John to have the ridiculously long conversations you always used to get sucked into.

Life was different at thirteen, and you can hardly expect to stay friends with someone you’ve never met in real life.

Shit just doesn’t work like that.

 

**John: Be really, really bored at work.**

You are JOHN EGBERT, and you work at a CORNER STORE. This afternoon is PARTICULARLY QUIET, and you’ve got nothing to do except STRAIGHTEN SHELVES and THINK.

The first thing that comes to mind is the conversation you had earlier with Dave. There are days when you didn’t want to pester him, because it makes you feel like an annoyance. You don’t blame him for that, though: from what you’ve heard, Dave is pretty popular, and what kind of cool kid wants to talk to a geek like you.

You guys had your time. You’ve been friends since you were eleven, which is damn good for anyone, really. As much as you don’t want to let your friendship with Dave die, it doesn’t seem like there’s much you can do about it.

You’ve got your own life, and Dave has his.

Maybe they just aren’t compatible anymore.


	2. Reunion

**Dave: Be two years in the future.**

You…aren’t exactly sure what that means. You don’t want to have to think about it, either, because you’re about to pass out on the couch from Bro’s ‘present’: a going-away-to-college strife.

Although Bro’s getting older, while you’re getting taller and more muscular, he can still kick your ass ten ways to Sunday. That ninja bastard can’t be human, and you’re actually glad to be leaving him, his freaky-ass puppets and his random ambushes behind.

You’re going to put a couple of states between the pair of you, and that is exactly the way you want it. None of your friends are going to college in California, most of them choosing to stay in Texas, but you couldn’t give a shit about that. It’s pretty easy for you to make friends these days, and honestly, your high school friends just didn’t understand irony the way you do.

Hopefully people in California _get it_ more.

Dragging yourself off the couch with a groan, there’s a flurry of movement and you suddenly realise there’s a post-it note attached to your forehead. Goddamn prick of a ninja brother.

“Bro. Tear Cali up. Call me.”

Short, sharp and to the point: exactly the kind of farewell you’d expect from your bro. Where other kids got, like, hugs and shit, you got a sword to the face (no homo). But you wouldn’t switch Bro for anyone else…not that you’d tell him as much.

Checking the time, you realise that you should probably get going if you want to make it to California before orientation. You managed to get your little shitbox car packed with your stuff before Bro dragged you to the roof, so all you’ve got left to do is the two day drive to college.

You’re actually a little bit worried that your crappy ’93 Escort won’t make the drive, considering its condition. But it was the best you could afford on your shitty wage, so you’re hoping like hell that it lasts. Plus, the thing has a bitchin’ sound system (complete with a fully sick subwoofer), so you’d really like to keep it for a while longer.

You take one last glance around the apartment, making sure you haven’t left anything important behind. Deciding that you haven’t, you casually wave goodbye to Li’l Cal, who _definitely_ wasn’t perched on the back of the couch ten seconds ago. Knowing that Bro must be nearby, you hold your fist out; as expected, Bro appears from nowhere, meeting your fist with his own.

The pair of you are almost the same size these days, except he’s a _little_ taller and you’re a bit broader in the shoulders.

And then he’s gone. Snickering softly, you walk towards the front door; before you leave, though, you turn back.

“Catch ya, Bro.”

You don’t expect a reply, closing the apartment door behind you. You think that you might actually start to miss Bro a little bit: he’s all you’ve had since your parents died. You were too young to remember them, though, and so Bro is the only family you’ve ever really known.

But you gotta get out of his shadow, and if that involves going to California to study photography, so be it.

Nobody really expected you to get to college, but you showed those idiots. Your portfolio was good enough to get you a partial scholarship to a not-too-bad school, and you’re pretty excited to be living in California. Sunny enough for your Texan blood, with slightly less of Houston’s ‘Hell on Earth’ feel.

The only bad thing is that your scholarship dictates your living arrangement: you’re gonna be stuck in a two-person dorm, which could either be fantastic or utterly horrible. You guess it all depends on who you end up with.

Jumping into your fully-packed car, you take a moment to fix your shades before starting her up, loud bass immediately pumping through your speakers. Your rear-view mirror jumps with every note, making you grin.

California, get ready for some Strider action.

 

**John: Escape your father and his damn baked goods.**

Gladly.

Jumping out of the front seat of your dad’s car, away from the cake he’s trying to foist off on you, you lean down and smile at him.

“Thanks for the lift. I’ll be right from here.”

He starts on a long, rambling speech about being proud of you, but you ignore it in favour of grabbing your bags and telling him you’ll call later that night. You think that his eyes start getting a little watery, but it’s no longer your problem: you’re escaping from his clown-filled house and starting your own life.

It took you so long to convince him that you were going interstate for college, and eventually you had to compromise with him by staying on the west coast. Still, California is far enough away that you won’t have to deal with him randomly stopping by with more cake, so you figure you got the better end of the deal.

You hear the car pull away as you head towards the dorm office. There are still a few people milling around, even though it’s getting late in the afternoon; walking into the building, you’re greeted by a tired-looking woman.

“Hi, new resident?”

“Yeah, hi. John Egbert, E-G-B-E-R-T.”

There’s a few seconds of a keyboard clacking while she looks you up, before she pulls out a box and starts digging through it.

“Okay…John Egbert, south tower, second floor, room 203. Do you need someone to show you the way there or to help you with your stuff?”

You didn’t bring much: mostly just clothes, your laptop, a couple of posters and part of your completely awesome film collection. Declining the offer, you take the keycard she’s holding out and thank her. She smiles back at you, and you head in the direction of the south tower.

Your new dorm isn’t too hard to find, and you’re damn excited to see your new room _and_ your new roommate. Reaching the second floor, you notice that all the doors along the hall have quick info sheets tacked to them, the typical sort of ‘getting to know you’ stuff these places like to do. Some are filled in, others are still blank, and some seem to be missing.

Glancing around for room 203, you see that one of the info sheets on your door has been filled in. You decide you’d better check it out before you go in, so that you have _some_ idea of who you’re going to be living with.

But as soon as you see the name at the top, you instinctively check to see if you’ve got the right room. It _has_ to be a coincidence, right?

**Name:** Dave Strider

**Age:** 18

**From:** Texas

**Studying:** Photography

**Favourite Quote:** where doing it man where MAKING THIS HAPEN

Okay, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Surely there are other Dave Striders who are your age, from Texas and who read Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.

Oh, who are you kidding.

_No one_ reads Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, except the guy who writes it.

 

**Dave: Hear the door opening.**

Nah, you’re too busy listening to some _sweet remixes_ on your iPod to do something like that. The feeling of someone tapping you on the shoulder would’ve made you jump out of your skin, if you were lame enough to be scared by something like that.

Turning around and taking out your headphones, you see the kid who you assume is your new roommate.

He’s…actually kinda hot (which you are comfortable enough in your casual bisexuality to admit): messy dark hair, slim, about an inch shorter than you and wearing black-framed glasses. You let your shade-covered eyes slowly look him up and down, only to be struck by a weird sense of familiarity when you look at his face.

But he’s looking at you like he’s gone full derp, and you raise an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ at, kid?”

“Uh…” The kid mumbles. There are another couple of silent seconds before he finally decides to talk again.

“Those’re authentic Stiller shades, aren’t they?”

Your other eyebrow jumps up. How the _hell_ could this guy pick something like that?

“You got some sort of Stiller fetish?” That might just be a deal-breaker. You can deal with a lot of things, but an obsessive Stiller fan is probably gonna be a little too much. But then the kid starts grinning like a total dork.

“I can’t believe you still wear those! I gave them to you, shit…five years ago?”

You stare uncomprehendingly at your new roommate.

“Oh, hell!” He exclaims. “You don’t remember me, do you? I’m John Egbert, y’know, ectoBiologist?”

Shit.

Holy fuck.

Holy fucking fuckballs on a fucking unicycle.

You haven’t spoken to John since you were sixteen and started drifting apart…and now you’re _living_ together? And he’s definitely gotten hotter…less buck-toothed, too.

He’s looking at you pretty expectantly, and you decide you should really say something.

“Dude, how could I forget Mr Egderp himself? The fuck you doing in California?” You’re pretty proud of yourself for not letting the shock show in your voice. Out of however goddamn many people in the dorms, you end up with the grown-up version of your childhood best bro.

This is starting out like a bad movie.

“I’m doing Cinema Studies here, figured I’d get away from Washington. What about you? Were you still living in Texas?”

“Was until two days ago. Figured it was time to bail on Bro.”

He nods, and then goes quiet. The two of you are left quietly looking at each other, awkward tension filling the air.

It’s not that your friendship ended badly, it’s just that it _did_ end. The two of you used to have a damn near perfect connection, at least until it wore away. Now you have no idea what to say to your former best friend.

Thirteen-year-old you would’ve been shitting himself in excitement at the idea of living with John.

Eighteen-year-old you was quietly wondering if it was too late to change rooms.


	3. Tension

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 17:12 --

EB: jade.  
EB: jade, help me.  
EB: jade, talk to me, I am having a crisis of epic proportions.  
GG: oh noooo whats wrong???  
EB: i met my new roommate today.  
GG: is he really bad??  
GG: is he a total freak like you :P  
EB: it’s dave.  
GG: ...dave?????  
GG: your old best friend who we both fell out of contact with dave??!!!  
EB: yep.  
EB: i have no idea what to say to him.  
EB: it’s so awkward.  
GG: you guys used to talk all the time!  
GG: ask him what he’s been doing since you broke up :D  
EB: what.  
EB: what.  
EB: jade, we didn’t break up.  
EB: society dictates that you have to be dating someone before you can break up.  
GG: just get off the computer and talk to him!!!!!  
GG: if youre living together you cant be totally awkward around him!!  
EB: i guess you’re right…  
GG: of course im right!!  
GG: now go talk to him!!!!! <3

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 17:16 --

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 17:13 --

TT: I see that you are loitering online, rather than going to frat parties and sleeping with drunk freshmen.  
TT: You, Dave, are a disappointment to college students everywhere.  
TG: fuck rose  
TG: i only got here today  
TT: Oh, I’m sorry. I suppose I overestimated the long-touted Strider Charm. How’s your new roommate?  
TG: ...  
TG: i dont wanna talk about it  
TT: Judging by your reactions, I am going to assume that it’s not going as well as you hoped it would.  
TT: Tell me, does this stem from an inability to cohabitate with anyone who doesn’t like to wear sunglasses inside?  
TT: Or is your roommate simply not ironic enough for your tastes?  
TG: you haven’t even started your psychology degree  
TG: dont you fuckin analyse me  
TT: No need to bite my head off, Dave. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?  
TT: I promise to keep all analysis to myself.  
TG: its john  
TT: And what, precisely, would be John?  
TG: my roommate  
TT: As I am so well-versed in Strider-speak, am I to infer that your roommate’s name is John?  
TG: you dont get it  
TG: my roommate is john  
TG: THE john  
TG: as in john dave jade and rose  
TT: Are you completely positive? John is an incredibly common name among Western societies.  
TG: he knew my shades were the ones he gave me  
TG: and his last name is egbert  
TG: how much more sure do you need me to be here rose  
TG: would you like a copy of his birth certificate  
TG: would you like a dna sample  
TG: would you like me to cut off his head and mail it to you  
TG: because ill do it  
TG: you know i will  
TG: anything for you babe  
TT: I would have thought you’d be utterly pleased by this entirely improbable turn of events, Dave. What seems to be the issue here?  
TG: its awkward as fuck  
TG: were not bros anymore  
TG: we have nothing to say to each other  
TG: and hes gotten really hot  
TG: wait  
TG: ignore that  
TT: Oh, no you don’t. So the problem is that you can’t immediately slip back into the friendship you used to have?  
TT: And you’re feeling a level of sexual attraction to him?  
TG: NO  
TG: well no to the second one  
TG: you might actually be right for once about the first one  
TG: as much as i hate to say it  
TT: You keep telling yourself that, Strider. Whatever will help you sleep better at night.  
TT: Maybe you should just pretend that he’s a stranger. After all, you are only now meeting in person for the first time.  
TT: Go through the motions of all the awkward small talk, and hopefully you can move past that and back into friendship.  
TG: or I could move into another dorm  
TT: Dave, consider your options: you can either live with your childhood best friend, or you can end up living with a Neanderthal who doesn’t understand the concept of hygiene.  
TG: whatever bitch  
TG: i dont need this shit from you  
TG: you dont have any friends  
TG: what would you know  
TT: And now you’re acting like an overgrown toddler. Dave, just talk to him. Give it time. This sort of thing cannot be forced.  
TT: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have people to talk to who don’t act like children.  
TG: bullshit  
TT: Oh, shut up, Dave.  
TT: Go and have a touching reunion with your boyfriend.  
TG: HEY!

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 17:24 -- **  
**

**Dave: Grumble irritably under your breath.**

Actually, you think you might just do that.

_“Stupid interfering little hussy,”_ you grumble irritably. “ _Thinks she knows everything about you.”_

Your angry muttering has caught John’s attention, the other guy looking over from his laptop.

“Uh…you okay there, Dave?”

You consider avoiding the question, but if there is anyone who will understand why you’re annoyed, it will be him. If you remember correctly, he used to be Rose’s second favourite unwilling therapy patient.

“Shit’s chill, man. Just Rose pulling her usual psychotherapy bullshit.”

“Oh, she hasn’t changed then! Not that I thought she ever would.” He gives you that derpy grin again, and you feel the tension in the room melt slightly.

“Yeah, sadly miracles don’t exist. Kinda hoped she’d grow out of it, but it’s only gonna get worse. She’s studying psychology in New York now.”

“Really? That’s pretty cool!”

You shake your head, a tiny little smirk threatening to break your cool expression. “Nah, it really isn’t.”

There’s another uncomfortable pause, but this time you actually decide to take Rose’s stupid advice and keep the conversation going.

“You still talking to Jade?”

“Yeah, she hasn’t changed either. She’s taken off to gallivant around deserted islands, researching something or other. Really, I think she just wants to be on permanent vacation.”

“Guess it’s just us who changed, then.”

The moment you say it, you know it’s the wrong thing. John’s face drops, his bottom lip drooping out in a manner you definitely don’t consider adorable.

Just when you’re wondering if you should try and fix the situation, though, he suddenly perks up again.

“Are you _sure_ I’ve changed?”

He sits his laptop aside, rolling onto the floor towards his bags. Quickly rifling through one, he makes a triumphant noise and tosses something onto your bed. Picking it up, you take one look and groan loudly.

“Con Air? _Seriously_ , bro? You brought this shitty thing into my sacred dorm room?”

John fixes you with a look of mock disapproval. “Con Air is one of the greatest films ever made. You can’t deny its status as a true classic.”

“No fuckin’ way, dude. That piece of crap can’t even be enjoyed ironically. There is no level of irony where Con Air is an acceptable film to watch, let alone _like_. There’s a reason it’s only found in bargain bins.”

“C’mon, just watch it again, I promise you’ll like it this time around.”

“Don’t make me drop some sick burn rhymes on you. I will _seriously_ bring the pain so hard that Nic Cage will feel it.”

John opens his mouth to say something else, but all that comes out is hysterical laughter. You’re wondering if he’s hyperventilating or something, but decide to wait it out. He needs to learn not to try and make you watch the shitty movies he adores.

Finally, the laughter ends. John wipes a hand under his eyes, smearing away tears. “Dave, neither of us have changed. You still try to win every argument with rap battles, and I _will_ be putting up Nic Cage and Matthew McConaughey posters. You don’t get a say in that one.”

You scowl: there’s no way you’re having those creepy pricks staring at you all the time. “Then enjoy your posters while you can, because they’re gonna end up with dicks drawn all over them.”

His grin morphs into something a little challenging. “Oh, yeah? You try your best, bro.”

For once, you tip your shades down slightly, allowing him to actually see your eyes. “Your gay little mancrushes won’t last a night.”

“Dude,” John laughs, “how many times do I have to say it? Not. Homosexual.”

Tipping your glasses back up, you bite your bottom lip in exaggerated seduction.

“This is college, Johnny boy. No one makes it out without getting a _little_ bit gay.”

“Even you?” It’s clearly a joke, but you aren’t gonna let that one slide without messing with him a bit.

“It’s too late for me in _that_ department, broseph.”

 John laughs, but it’s a little awkward, as if he can’t tell whether or not that was a joke. You figure you’ll let him stew for a while before you tell him that it really wasn’t.


	4. Dinner

**John: Go get dinner, you’re starving.**

Looking at your watch, you see that the second dinner call is about to start in the dining room. Actually, this might be a good chance to get some conversation done with Dave: the tension between you might have lowered, but there’s still some uneasiness in the air.

“Dave,” you call in the general direction of the small front room. There’s no answer, so you drag yourself off your bed and go searching. You find the blond messing around with a camera, headphones covering his ears.

You roll your eyes, glancing around for a projectile weapon. Grabbing one of the useless info sheets the administration office gave you, it is quickly folded into a paper plane and launched at Dave’s head. He whirls around as soon as the plane hits the back of his neck, grabbing a shitty sword from his strife deck.

“Shit, Dave!” You laugh, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “I don’t wanna strife, just wanted to know if you’re gonna come grab some dinner with me.”

He eyes you suspiciously, but quickly returns his sword to the deck. “Sorry, man. Used to Bro jumping my ass at each and every turn. Dinner?”

Well, from what you remember of Dave’s bro, that’s a fair point. “Yeah, down in the hall. It’s second call, so if we don’t go now, we’ll have to feed ourselves.”

“We better hit the fuck off button then, hey!” He puts the camera down, taking a quick glance down at himself before fixing his sunnies. You shake your head at his vanity, snickering a little; but you know that he’ll probably pick up more this year than you will. He’s got a whole tall, mysterious thing going on, as opposed to your dorky little geek act: it _does_ work for you, but doesn’t seem to do anywhere near as well as charming and arrogant.

You grab what you need, heading out the door with Dave by your side. The two of you don’t say a lot as you walk down to the dining hall and get your food, settling onto a table towards the back of the long room. There’s a slightly awkward silence as you both discover that the supplied food isn’t _too_ bad, and you quickly chow down on bolognaise as you realise just how hungry you are.

“So…” You eventually decide to begin, stirring your food around with your fork. You can see Dave’s eyes flick towards you over the top of his lowered shades, one pale eyebrow flicking up as he waits for you to continue.

“Uh…what have you been up to lately?” You finish a little lamely. He chews and swallows, apparently considering the question.

“Same shit as always, bro,” he eventually grins. “Hangin’, chillin’, little bit’a illin’. How about yourself, Egderp?”

He’s still using that stupid nickname, but you find that it doesn’t bother you. You’re really just happy to be talking to him again…oh god, that’s really sappy. Apparently, you’re a fourteen-year-old girl.

“Nothing of any real note…went to school, worked, dated a little…”

“Oh, _really?”_ Dave asks, suddenly sounding _far_ too interested. “You got a bish on the run right now? Tragic tale of a high school sweetheart left behind as her man goes away to college?”

Snorting, you duck your head without really meaning to, a little embarrassed. “Nah. My last girlfriend ditched me just before graduation. Decided she’d rather date a 25-year-old loser who could buy her booze.”

Dave hisses in a breath through his teeth. “That’s rough, bro.” He stabs his fork back into the pasta, taking a ridiculously large mouthful and chewing quickly.

“Ah well, shit happens, y’know?” You shrug. You’re well and truly over it by this point: it wasn’t the greatest relationship anyway. You’re pretty sure she’d been sleeping with the guy for quite a while before you actually broke up, and you were really just glad to be rid of the lying hussy.

“Yeah, I hear that,” Dave says after swallowing his mouthful. “I had a girl for a while who ended up only getting with me so she could get closer to Bro.”

Your eyes go ridiculously wide, a surprised laugh escaping from your mouth. “Holy hell, _really?_ How’d that work out for her?”

Dave’s gleeful grin is almost blinding, and he slouches back in his seat. “Considering that Bro’s already drowning in pussy, the _last_ thing he was gonna do was bang his little brother’s underage girlfriend. It’s not often that Bro absolutely loses his shit laughing, but it happened when she declared her love for him.”

You and he both crack up, the people at a nearby table glaring at you for being so loud. Dave flips them off, making you laugh even harder.

“Knowing my luck,” you finally manage to gasp out, “they’re probably our neighbours, and will make our lives a living hell!”

Dave’s grin turns mischievous, light flaring of the lenses of his shades. “Guess we’ll just have to have a whole bunch of super-loud sex then.”

You flush lightly, not really sure what to say in response. Before you can stutter uncertainly too much, though, he shakes his head.

“Not with each other, you derper.” You can practically _hear_ him rolling his eyes, so you decide to play along a bit. Just to mess with him.

“But _Dave_ ,” you pretend to whine, “you really can’t get my hopes up like that. Don’t lead me on and make me think I’m gonna get your spam cannon, only to cruelly rip my hopes and dreams away.”

For a second, just a _second_ , you know you’ve caught him unawares. But then he finds his feet again, upping the stakes and leaning forward slightly. “That’s awfully forward of you, Mister Egbert. But you gotta wake the python before you can play with it.”

You’re not going to back down from the challenge now. Your manly, manly pride is at stake here, so you lean forward as well, getting damn close to Dave’s personal space. “Better not tempt me, Dave, otherwise we’re gonna end up giving all these people one hell of a show.”

“ _Bring it_ ,” he whispers seductively, and _holy shit_ he’s all up in your business right now. You really need to not think about how close you guys are to actually kissing: if either of you licked your lips, you’d probably connect with the other guy by accident.

Ten seconds pass in silence; then twenty. Dave obviously has no intentions to move, but you’re starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable. Thirty seconds in, you finally back off, settling right down into your seat.

“Yes!” Dave grins, slapping the table in celebration. “Dave Strider, gay chicken champion of the universe.”

You can’t help but laugh, if only to cover your slight awkwardness at having been so close to your former best friend- a _man_. Of _course_ Dave was only messing with you as much as you were with him.

“So, anyway,” Dave says casually, “can’t help but notice that you no longer have the crazy beaver teeth.”

Right, of course: Dave probably hasn’t seen a photo of you since you were fourteen or so, and you never told him that you were getting _that_ particular issue dealt with.

“Yeah, I had braces when I was fifteen, got ‘em off at sixteen.” You flash him a bright smile, showing off your perfectly straight teeth. “Definitely helped me with the girls.”

He gives a quick laugh and a flicker of a smile, but it seems hollow, distracted. But he shovels in another mouthful of pasta before you can think about that too much, and you decide to put the weird reaction down to Dave just wanting to eat.

To avoid the creeping feeling of another awkward silence, you give yourself an excuse not to talk by joining Dave in eating again.

That still doesn’t _quite_ discourage the awkwardness, though.

 

**Dave: Re-evaluate what you told Rose about your lack of attraction to John.**

Hahaha, _no_.

Sure, you’ve lied about various shit in your life: ‘No, Bro, I didn’t take your fucking sword’, ‘Yeah, I’ll definitely have that project done Friday,’ and hell, you may have even tried ‘just the tip’ once or twice.

But you were sure as shit not lying when you told Rose that you didn’t want to fuck John, even if you used fewer words. You don’t want to let him pound your ass, you don’t want to suck his brains out through his dick, and you _definitely_ weren’t about to kiss him just before.

Because that would make living together awfully hard.

As you eat, you try to keep your mind focused on that immediate task, but your thoughts wander and your eyes rise behind your shades to look at John. It takes a few moments for you to realise that you’re mentally dressing him in your style of clothing, rather than his current dorky threads, but once you click you can’t unseeit.

His ass would probably look _really_ good in black skinny jeans, maybe paired with a slim-fitting blue tee…a little product in that dark mop he thinks counts as hair, and goddammit, you’d be on that shit like white on rice.

Predictably, your mind immediately takes the next logical step: now that you’ve imagined him in a decent-looking outfit, you picture how he’d look with _out_ the duds. He’s spread out on the cheap dorm bed, that straight-toothed grin the only thing he’s wearing as one hand wraps around his hard cock, the other hand gesturing you closer…

A fork waves in front of your eyes, and you snap back to reality. John’s looking at you like you’re two crusts short of a full loaf, and you’re fucking glad for the dark glasses hiding your eyes.

Well, _fuck._


	5. Sleep

**Dave: Go to class.**

College movies clearly lied to you, because straight up there’s a metric fucktonne of readings and assignments to do. None of this ‘tearing around campus, getting into some whack shit erryday’ business.

Not that you spend all that much time doing assignments, because why bother doing something in advance when it can be done the day before it’s due? Also, class is ridiculously boring, so you think that you’ll have a nap in the back of the lecture theatre.

Hopefully you don’t end up on your school’s ChumBook page dedicated to stupid photos of sleeping students…though you guess there’d be a certain level of irony in that. Somewhere.

**== > Skip straight to the parts that you enjoy, because you enjoy them.**

You’ll never become a master ninja if you keep doing that, you’ll miss out on all the crucial details…wait, what?

_Anyway_.

It’s Wednesday night and you’re busy jerking off. You’re not going to sugar coat that, it’s _exactly_ what you’re up to. You were actually a little worried about how a double room would affect your lovin’ schedule- both of the self and paired up varieties- but it looks like you won’t have to worry too much.

John took his dorky ass off to get a crappy service industry night job, so you’re always guaranteed a few evenings a week of Strider time. And _shit_ , have you needed it.

Turns out, John’s practically allergic to being fully dressed when it’s just the two of you. For a skinny bastard, he sure doesn’t seem to have a lot of insecurities in his body: you’ve seen his pert little naked ass so many times now, it’s actually getting a bit ridiculous.

Then there are the times you’ve seen him lazing around your dorm room in just his underwear. _Fuck_ , if it didn’t wind you up so much, you’d be calling in Pants Off Friday. Or, fuck, even Pants Off Every-Day-That-Ends-With-Y.

Maybe you should burn all his clothes while he’s out. _Force_ him to wander around with that gorgeous ass on display, just begging for your attention…

…Aaaand you’re done.

Well, _fuck_.

You promised yourself you weren’t going to get off to thoughts of your best friend and roommate. Not because it’d make you feel awkward- growing up with a puppet pornographer killed your sense of shame- but because you really don’t need to be feeding this…attraction.

Still, nothing to do about it now. You grab a handful of tissues and clean your hand, lobbing them into the bin once you’re sure you got everything. Lounging back on your bed, you link your fingers behind your head and sigh.

You love living with John: he’s clean and pretty quiet, not to mention that he’s your fuckmothering _best friend_. But it kinda sucked when he talked about the chicks in his classes like they were the hottest things since the Guatemalan Insanity Pepper. Quite honestly, no woman would ever be hotter than you.

You snort a laugh: that was pretty bad, even for you. Resting a hand across your abs, you consider talking to Rose about this, but that idea is quickly thrown out when you remember that you’re not utterly masochistic.

You think that you’ll just have a nap instead.

 

**John: Drag yourself home from work.**

Ugh, evening shifts were a bad choice.

The money is great, but between work, school and _sleeping_ , you haven’t managed to claw yourself much of a social life. At least you’ve gone out with Dave a couple of times, because that guy somehow gathers friends wherever he goes, even when he’s being a bit of a dick.

It’s fun, you guess, but you can’t help but feel like you’re cockblocking him a bit. Half the time when a girl comes up to the pair of you, he seems to feel like he should get rid of her pretty quick. Then again, if girls came up to you like they do to him, you’d probably be damn picky too.

Not that anyone ever comes up to you. Not when you’ve got Dave scoping all the attention next to you. But you’ll never hold that against him: he’s a handsome dude, and you can’t bring yourself to be jealous of your best friend.

He’s got game, and you? Well, betas gonna beta, you guess.

Being careful not to slam the door behind you, you finally crawl into your shared bedroom. Looks like Dave’s already asleep: he’s actually got his glasses off for once, and he only ever seems to do that when he’s down for the night.

In truth, you wouldn’t be surprised if Dave showered in those damn things.

If you’re allowed to be girly for a moment, it actually makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy to know that he’s still wearing the shades you bought him. Makes you feel like he might not have totally forgotten you, even when you guys stopped talking; you know that you never truly forgot about him, so it’d be pretty cool if you didn’t get blanked on.

Not that it matters anymore, because you could hardly forget about your roommate. He’s messy, leaves swords in the _weirdest_ places, and can barely sit still for five seconds, but you’d never consider changing rooms. Living with Dave is the best possible scenario you could come up with.

Sparing a glance to where he’s sleeping soundly, you start stripping off your work clothes, wanting to just crawl into bed and be done with it all. Your shirt ends up thrown at the end of your bed, because you’re too tired to care, but you can’t flick your damn shoes off. With a quiet groan, you bend right over to pick the knots in your laces, your sore back protesting the movement.

 

**Dave: Perve your heart out.**

Holy shitballs, Batman. That is a _nice_ angle right there.

You could tell John was trying to be super sneaky when he came home from work, but you grew up with a goddamn ninja: you’re a very light sleeper when it comes to people moving around you.

According to Bro, sleeping was never an excuse for losing a fight.

Anyway, you pretended to be asleep, hoping John would strip in front of you, y’know, put on a bit of a show. But bending right over with his ass pointing towards you, pants stretching tight around him?

_Fuuuuuuuck_.

If you weren’t such an incorrigible bottom when it came to fucking guys, you’d probably be getting _all_ up in his grill right about now.

Then again, you _know_ you’d make an exception to your habit and top him if he asked you.

He might be your dorky little Egderp friend, but there’s just something about John that makes your brain melt a little bit. It’s probably the fact that you can’t have him.

You’ve never been good with accepting the fact that you can’t always get what you want. Most people can’t deny you anything, with a little bit of pestering.

But there’s no way you’re going to _persuade_ John into sleeping with you. If you don’t want to fuck up the friendship, you’re gonna have to let him come to you…but that’s never going to happen.

Damn straight dudes, ruining all your fun.

John slides into bed, and you realise you were thinking so hard that you missed the end of his unwitting stripshow. That’s a fucking shame…but you know that it’ll happen again.

John will keep being a little cocktease, and you’ll keep your mouth shut and wank about it when he leaves.

Fuck, but you’re being kinda pathetic.

That settles it. You’re going out over the weekend, and you’re going to find some choice ass- male _or_ female- to dissolve all your sexual frustration.

Anyway, you’re probably only so fixated on John because you haven’t been laid in two weeks and he’s _right there_. 

All this shit will sort itself out once you get down to some good fucking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
> I- Sorry about the short chapter and the long wait: it's a set-up chapter for the next one, and I have a lot of assignments due right now.  
> II- I kind of went overboard with referencing random things this chapter. Sorry 'bout that, I'm just really tired...  
> III- My university actually does have a Facebook page where people can post pictures of people sleeping in lectures or the library. It's pretty entertaining.


	6. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry fellas, I had eight straight weeks of uni assignments coming out my goddamn ass, and then it took another week before I could even consider looking at a word document. But I’m done with school for the year now, so hopefully my schedule will even out a bit.

**Dave: Go flirt with the hot guy who’s been checking you out all night.**

What hot guy? Oh, the tall brunette who’s staring at you like you’re a piece of meat? Shit, you’re down with that. Grabbing your beer bottle, you make your way over to the aforementioned stranger.

“Hey, handsome,” you say with only a _hint_ of slurring. “You too cool to talk to anyone else around here?”

If you were less drunk, you’d take a little more time to work out whether he was actually gay or if you were going to be dodging punches. As you _aren’t_ actually less drunk, you really don’t care.

But from the promising smirk the guy gives you, you realise that you probably got it right this time.

“Maybe I was just waiting for someone to come hit on me.” His voice is gorgeously deep, and it goes straight to your dick. Shit, you want this; and you know for a fact that John is pulling another night shift at work. He won’t be around to cockblock you tonight.

“Well, here I am. You gonna come fuck me?” There were definite advantages to picking up men instead of women. For the most part, even drunk women didn’t like a guy who got straight to the point: there was usually a lot of pissfarting around as you tried to balance between being too subtle and being too overt. Right now, ain’t nobody got time for that.

The dude throws back the last of his drink, standing up and wrapping his arm around your waist. “Can we go to yours, blondie?”

If you were less drunk, the nickname would have annoyed the shit out of you. Again, though, you’re _not_ less drunk, so you just lean up to press your lips against his ear. “Only if you promise to fuck me so hard I’ll be walkin’ funny.”

“I think I can handle that.” A large hand squeezes your ass, and you bite at his neck. He flashes a predatory grin at you, and leads you out of the party. It’s actually been quite a while since you’ve let a guy fuck you.

This is gonna be fun.

 

**John: Be a derpy, oblivious idiot.**

Hey, _what?_ You’re not derpy, oblivious _or_ an idiot! You’re a smart, well-adjusted… _oh fucking Christ on a fucking popsicle!_

You promptly hightail it out of the dorm you just entered, and wish that work hadn’t sent you home early due to a lack of customers.

The dorm’s common room is relatively quiet, and you pull out your phone as you grab a seat in the corner, hoping to god that someone is online. Pesterchum takes its time to kick up, and you groan when you see that Jade is away. However, as you scroll idly through your contacts list, you see a name that you haven’t clicked in quite a while.

Well, you’re kinda desperate, and it wasn’t like you made a _conscious_ decision to stop talking to her…she’ll probably love this sort of thing. You’ll even let her analyse your brain if it’ll help just a little. Rose _is good_ at what she does, and below all the sarcasm, she’s a good friend.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 23:53 --

EB: rose?   
EB: please tell me you’re online.   
EB: dear friend of mine.   
EB: i love you.   
TT: Why, if it isn’t the prodigal son. What, pray tell, has prompted this resurgence of interest in our online friendship?   
EB: i need to talk to someone, jade isn’t online, and i need my head straightened out.   
EB: wanna practice your psychology on me?   
TT: When you put it like that, I suppose I can spare a few minutes for an old friend. Tell me, John, what seems to be the issue?   
EB: i just walked in on dave having sex.   
TT: Oh. Well I suppose that could lead to some degree of awkwardness between the two of you. Though to elicit this sort of reaction, am I right to assume that he was doing something out of the ordinary?   
TT: Was there some sort of animal involved? A sex toy that closely resembled a medieval torture device?   
EB: no rose, don’t make fun of this.   
EB: dave...wasn’t the one doing the fucking.   
EB: I didn’t even know that dave is gay.   
TT: He isn’t.   
EB: i’m not an expert on this stuff, but i’m pretty sure that dave getting...   
EB: uhhh...   
EB: a ride on the midnight meat train is pretty good evidence for him being gay.   
TT: It really isn’t, John. There is a lot more to human sexuality than just gay and straight.   
TT: Dave doesn’t have any particular hang-ups about the physical sex of the people he sleeps with.   
TT: And there is absolutely nothing unnatural about that. Strictly defined sexuality is nothing but an oppressive social construct that values heteronormativity at the expense of everything else.   
EB:...   
EB: i thought he was joking.   
TT: Does this cause some sort of issue for you, John? Because I must tell you, Dave doesn’t appreciate homophobia, and neither do I.   
EB: NO!   
EB: no, i don’t have any issues with him being gay.   
TT: I believe the proper term is either bisexual or pansexual, depending on how deep Dave’s disregard of gender goes.   
EB: yeah, that. i don’t have a problem with that...it’s just a shock, y’know?   
TT: I suppose I can see where you might be coming from with that.   
TT: If you truly want my advice, there is only one course of action I would recommend.   
TT: Stay away from your dorm for a little while, then have a proper conversation with Dave. Don’t let this come between you.   
EB: ...i guess i can handle that.   
TT: And whatever you do, do not let him think that you have a problem with his sexuality. If you hurt him over something as trivial as sexual preference, you will most likely have to deal with both myself and Bro.   
EB: thanks rose.   
EB: you’re a good friend.   
TT: I know. Just remember, when I’m qualified I will be charging for my services. Enjoy the free ride while it lasts.   
EB: cool.   
EB: i’m gonna go now, grab some coffee at the all-night café.   
TT: You do that, John.   
EB: thanks again, rose. i owe you one.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 00:06 --

**Dave: Tell the derper it’s safe to return.**

You just know that this is going to be awkward, but it’d be rude as hell to leave John in the cold all night. At least the guy you just threw out of your room, whatever his name was, didn’t seem to notice the little interruption and kept going at it ‘til you were both done.

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you see that John is online and logged into Pesterchum.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 01:19 --

TG: you can come back without fear of my gorgeous body making you pop a boner   
TG: peepshows over   
EB: okay.   
EB: i’ll be there soon.   
TG: dont make a fuckin racket   
TG: im going to sleep   
TG: we can have question time tomorrow   
EB: i’m really sorry, man.   
TG: dont worry about it

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 01:22 --

If you’re being totally honest with yourself, you’re actually a little worried about how all this shit is gonna play out. You’re not going to stop fucking guys just because John might have a problem with it: if he does, then _he’s_ the one with the issues. 

You can’t just call him a whambulance for his whinge-uries and forget about it. This could lead to some seriously whack tension, and you’re really not down with that. You and John only just got back on track, and now _this_?

Something out there must have a total hateboner for you.

The door quietly opens and closes, but you straight-up ignore it without even opening your eyes. If there was one thing that Bro taught you, it was that talking about stuff is totally pointless when you can just strife everything out on the roof. Unfortunately, you don’t think that will really work in this case.

You can’t help but feel like you’re gonna have a bad time tomorrow, because you _hate_ talking about personal shit. 

But if John’s a homophobic prick, you guess it’ll be better to find out sooner rather than later. It might help you stop wanting to stab his guts so fucking much.

Or not.


	7. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven: The return of the lazy fuck, A.K.A. me. I've been enjoying holidays a little too much, and got totally slack with my writing. I'm gonna say the next chapter will be quicker...hopefully...sorry about the wait, and thank you to those people who messaged me asking about the next chapter and got me off my ass.
> 
> If you want to bitch at me/gently encourage me to hurry my damn ass up, feel free to visit me [on Tumblr](http://socialdegenerate.tumblr.com/).

**John: Have the incredibly awkward conversation.**

Nooooo, you _really_ don’t want to do that. Of all the things you want to do today, that’s somewhere on the bottom of the list.

But you figure that you kinda have to, because otherwise you’ll have Rose bitching at you (passive-aggressively or not) and Bro trying to cut your spleen out. Plus, y’know, you really don’t want to make Dave feel bad. He’s your bro, and you don’t want to lose him over something as petty as sexual preferences.

Luckily, though, you have your Exploring Media Arts class at nine this morning, and you’re up and out of your dorm before Dave has even woken up.

You _swear_ you’re not running away from your problems, just taking a moment to strategise. That’s why you’ve currently got a grand total of zero notes written down, and you’ve barely listened to a word that the professor is saying. That might come back to bite you, but you figure you’d rather have your best friend than a perfect mark.

By the time the end of the lecture rolls around at eleven, you’re almost totally sure about how you’re going to handle this…

Okay, you’re a filthy liar. You sit on a throne of lies. You’ve agonised over the upcoming conversation with Dave for two hours, and the issue you’re having is that you don’t know how _he’s_ feeling about the whole thing.

Pulling out your phone as you head towards a café for the breakfast you missed earlier in the morning, you look back over last night’s quick conversation with Dave. His dont worry about it really isn’t that convincing, or maybe it is. You don’t know. Text on a page isn’t the greatest way to tell how someone’s feeling, but it’s the only thing you’ve got to go on right now.

Is he embarrassed about getting caught like that? Is he angry about your total lack of awareness? Does he honestly just not give a flying fuck?

Well, no matter what, you figure he’ll at least _outwardly_ act like he doesn’t have a single fuck to give. You’ve known him too long to expect anything else from the cool kid.

Slumping into a chair in the corner of the café, you let your head fall against the table and groan. You’re too awkward to hold a conversation like this, and that’s one of the reasons you’re dreading it.

At least you’ve got your Working With Words class to figure things out before you and Dave are both done with classes for the day.

…You’re a little bit fucked, you think.

* * *

**== > Be done with classes for the day.**

Your heart is almost pounding out of your chest as you head up to your dorm. You think a couple of people say hi to you as you walk past, but you barely hear them over the sound of your thoughts.

This is it.

The face off ( _heh_ ).

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself into your dorm. The first thing you see is Dave sprawled across the beaten-up couch in the small front room, reading some kind of photography magazine. His head turns towards you, eyes covered by his shades, and your stomach drops because you have no idea what he’s thinking.

And then he just casually nods at you, voice utterly normal as he says, “S’up, Egbert. How’s shit?”

You blink at him a couple of times, and then your entire body starts to shake as you break into hysterical laughter. Leaning back into the door, you’re actually struggling to breathe as you laugh yourself stupid.

Dave’s looking at you, eyes just visible over the tops of his shades, and it’s obvious that he thinks you’re crazy. “Must’a been a good day then.”

You finally manage to bring yourself under control, but you’re still leaning against the door and panting. You’re not entirely sure why you reacted like that. Maybe it’s because you were so worried about things being weird, and beating yourself up so badly about it.

In any case, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.

“ _Jesus_ , Dave. I’ve been so worried that everything would be totally awkward after…well, y’know, after last night.” You reach up to run a hand through your hair, huffing out a sigh of relief.

He lets the magazine fall against his chest, one pale eyebrow lifting inquisitively. “It’s only gonna be awkward if you let it get that way.”

Walking over to the couch, you shove his legs out of the way and sit down. He immediately puts his feet in your lap, a position that you’re actually pretty used to. The one time you bitched about it, he told you to get used to it or stop interrupting his Strider Sprawl.

Seriously.

The casual familiarity of it draws away the rest of your anxiety, and you relax back into the couch.

Now that you’re comfortable, you find the words coming out more easily, and totally unlike anything you’d planned to say.

“Dave, I don’t want things to change between us. Yeah, I was feeling pretty awkward last night, but that’s mainly because it…it was kinda unexpected.” You then quickly add, “But not in a bad way! Just a shocked way.”

Dave snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well at least you kept your mouth shut and didn’t scare off my hook-up. We cool?”

“Yeah,” you say, utterly relieved. “We’re cool. So make sure Rose knows it.”

“What’s she up to now?” Dave asks suspiciously, but there’s a smirk playing on his lips.

You feel yourself blushing a little bit, and your eyes drop to his bare feet in your lap. “I…might’ve messaged her last night, freaking out a bit. She psychoanalysed some sense into me, then threatened to sic Bro onto me if I hurt your feelings.”

Dave laughs. He full-blown, uncaringly laughs out loud at your utter embarrassment. “Shit, I’m gonna have to pretend that you totally tore me to shreds over this now. I _really_ wanna see her try and make Bro do anything.”

“Oh my god,” you yelp, slapping him on the leg. “You can’t throw me under the bus like that! I can’t stand up to your crazy ninja brother, Dave. He’ll gut me, Dave. Do you want that on your conscience? Dave, do you?”

“But then I’ll be able to bang randoms in here without worrying about you walking in. Not really seeing a downside here.” Dave digs his heels painfully into your thigh, and you shove his legs off. He’s sitting up in a flash, grabbing you by the shoulders and tossing you to the floor.

You flail a little bit, grabbing his forearms and taking him with you. The pair of you end up lying next to each other on the floor, legs propped up on the couch. You’re grinning like a fool, and under his cool exterior, you’re pretty sure Dave is too.

“Okay, one question,” you get out before you have time to stop and think about what you’re going to say. “Are you into giving or taking?”

Dave’s glasses fell off during the quick tussle, and so you can tell that he’s staring at you pretty intensely. Maybe you went too far…should you apologise? Say that you know it’s none of your business?

“Maybe you should find that out for yourself.” Oh, _fuck_. He’s smouldering at you. Dave Strider is _smouldering_ at you, all super intense eyes and low, charming Texan tone.

You’re…feeling more than a little uncomfortable right about now.

“Holy _fuck_ , the look on your face! That’s fuckin’ glorious!” And now he’s laughing at you. Again.

“Not. Cool,” you mutter, awkwardly reaching across to punch him in the arm. He doesn’t retaliate, just looks around for his shades and slaps them onto his face. Giving you one last smirk, he picks himself up off the floor.

“Well, if touchy-feeling-sharing time is over, I’ve got shit to do. See you in the dining hall for dinner?”

“Yeah,” you grin, looking right up at him standing over you.

 “Cool. Later,” he responds, stepping over you and out of the dorm. You’re still grinning when you eventually stand up, and your good mood lasts even as you slog through almost a hundred pages of class readings.

**Author's Note:**

> A warning for when I reach the 'college' portion of this college AU: I'm not American. The dorms described are a mixture of my own experiences living on campus at an Australian uni and what I've seen in movies. So please don't string me up if they don't match what you know.
> 
> Also, if I've screwed up my pesterlog coding anywhere, please let me know.


End file.
